An Umbrella in Spite of the Thunder
by Handful of Silence
Summary: A Team Kink prompt fill; When Face let Murdock watch a certain Pixar film, little did he know that the story of romance would be the basis on which Murdock decided to try and find his own true love. F/M
1. Carrying the Torch

_Author Note: You might not believe me, but this fic started out as a short little oneshot that just grew out of control. It's since taken over anything else I was in the process of writing, so I hope you guys like it. If you've seen WALL.E, you'll get a lot of the in-jokes and references, but it's not essential. If you've seen a Pixar/Disney movie, you'll get the progression of the plot. :-)_

_Prompt from the LJ A_Team_Kink (courtesy of conanxcolbert): "What if Murdock was WALL-E trying to get with the amazingly beautiful EVE (aka Face)" _

_Pairings: Progressive tilt to Face/Murdock. _

An Umbrella in Spite of the Thunder : A Love Story in Four Stages 

**Part 1/4  
****Carrying The Torch**

Face didn't question it much when Murdock started saying his name in a robotic fashion. It was clear he'd tried very hard with the impression; the first syllable of his name high and lengthened, the second drawn out just as much just an octave lower, and Face had had to smile when Murdock looked immediately pleased that he'd managed it, a grin creeping across his face and camping there for the remainder of the day. He'd wasn't really bothered with Murdock's usual original brand of insanity, and had witnessed the pilot going through stranger phases of role-play and personality pass-the-parcel, spending whole days humouring the pilot when he was pretending to be a pirate, or Victorian adventurer, or a ninja, or even a Pokemon master on one occasion. It was just a part of the whole Murdock that Face had learnt to cope with (and often , he enjoyed joining in with Murdock's antics, even when Hannibal had rolled his eyes at the two when he caught them sword fighting, BA groaning and telling Face, not to encourage the 'crazy fool') So when the character switch of the week happened to be a representation of a yellow miniature robot from a certain Pixar film, Face was content enough and used the pilot's quirks by now to be able to put up with the captain going "Murrr-dockkkk!", in that tone that Face knew he'd be sick of eventually.

It was his own fault really. He was the one who had promised Murdock a DVD night, the four of them not having a break for too long. The CIA and the new Lynch had been getting close on their tail,too close for their liking, and every night it had been a new city they fell asleep in, early starts treading the dawn and stopping only when they were all too tired to stay awake at the wheel of the GMC despite catnips in the passenger seat. It got to the point where everyone was at snapping point; Hannibal had been smoking more, Murdock getting more manic the less hours he slept, BA snapping at everything that pissed him off (usually Murdock), and even Face was beginning to lose what little patience he possessed as sleepless nights and days fraught with stress and worry slowly got to him. Finally though, they'd' lost the CIA halfway across Kansas, and now they had time to breathe, Hannibal suggested they all had some time off. When things died down a bit, they'd be able to move around a bit, and the four of them might be able to have a little bit of alone time (BA would probably go visit his mother, Hannibal might take off to god-knows-where for the day on one of his secret little projects, and Face would probably hang around with Murdock (neither of them had family they could visit, so they usually just stuck together), and they might go to a bar one night so Face could try and pull a pretty woman for the night. Right now though, time off was strictly limited to staying together and laying low.

And time-off, for Murdock, was a film night. They couldn't go to the cinema (part of the whole 'laying low' spiel), and Hannibal didn't want anyone to have any unnecessary contact with people who could identify them, at least until he was sure the CIA were off their backs. So, it had been a film that they had chosen quickly from an open-all-hours rental store, and while BA had groaned at the pilot's film choice and had retreated into the next room with Hannibal to watch something more suited to his tastes,namely something with a lot of CG explosions and ass-kicking fight scenes between actors that looked like they were on steroids, Face had had little issue with sitting on the two seater couch in their motel room, watching something that was effectively a children's film on the small TV screen (he hadn't had time to blag a plasma) with Murdock snuggled up beside him. By now, he'd got so used to Murdock's childlike attributes revealing themselves that he didn't mind so much , even when it resulted in his personal space being invaded. When a film was exciting, Murdock would be practically bouncing off his seat with glee adorning his features, if it was frightening or overly violent, Murdock would try and hide his eyes away in Face's shirt (and they'd all learned the hard way when they'd watched Lethal Weapon together and the scenes of electrocution had turned the pilot pale and trembling for reason's none of them could understand, and he'd had nightmares he wouldn't talk about for weeks, sliding into Face's bed at obscene hours of the morning so that he wouldn't be alone) . When it came to just the general viewing of films however, the pilot had a knack of folding his body in the niche between Face's shoulder and torso so that Face had little choice than to move his arm around Murdock to allow them both to be more comfortable (At least that was what Face told himself, yet a secret, mostly ignored part of him quite liked it when the pilot settled down against him, although he'd vehemently deny it when he called himself up on the fact)

So, when Murdock attached himself with vigour to the character of WALL.E, singing the tunes of Hello Dolly and making enough robot noises to irritate BA, Face knew he shouldn't really be surprised. It was how Murdock did things in his unique little world, and Face couldn't judge him for enjoying something that had cost so little to provide. Hannibal had his cigars, BA letters from his mother and his GMC, even Face had his women when he could get them, but Murdock had no other release other than to act a bit more crazy. And if putting up with only one personality shift instead of ten was enough to keep everyone relatively happy, Face couldn't complain.

What Face didn't realise however, was how strongly Murdock had taken one certain aspect of the film to heart.

* * *

To Murdock, films always mirrored real life. It was probably part of the package of his mental issues, the habit he got into of getting too caught up in the supposed reality of someone else's pretend world. It felt real to him,the emotions felt real, and he tied into that all too easily. In the VA in Mannheim, Germany he distinctly remembered on film-related incident that had the doctors trying to tranquillise him (they'd had to catch him first, he wasn't exactly going to make it easy for them) for challenging orderlies on the corridors with a foam sword, stating loudly and triumphantly; " My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die", before switching film and genre entirely and running at his unsuspecting victims, bellowing a Comanche war cry, something which Murdock had noticed people hadn't liked. Nonetheless, it was his belief that if something could happen in films, nine times out of ten it could probably happen in real life (unless it involved magic, superpowers, dragons or all of the above, because while Murdock was firmly convinced they all existed, he had yet to come across them)

Which was why Murdock had latched onto the love story between WALL.E and EVE with reaffirmed hope in his heart, a smile on his face and a plan in his head. Because if WALL.E, a damaged, slightly crazy robot could end up with a smoother, more attractive model like EVE, why couldn't Murdock- a damaged, definitely crazy pilot- end up with a smoother, more attractive Face? In every romantic film he had ever seen, love had been able to triumph over every adversity, braving death, disgrace and unwanted betrothals to other men (although Murdock had never really had that issue) to end up with the guy getting his girl (there of course was a _bit_ of a technical issue there, what with Face not actually being a woman, but Murdock was confident that if love could bring people back from the brink of death- kiss of life, and so on- it could definitely hop over and disregard any gender barrier while the universe wasn't looking.)

And so began his plan of action. Murdock, by his own admission, wasn't a planner. Like BA, he was a lot more impulsive than say Hannibal or Face, and when he went barging into things he didn't really think of the consequences until he nearly got shot again for the nth time. It was usually Face who had to hold him back, talking him out of whatever scheme he'd latched onto, and if that didn't work Hannibal's calming brogue did the trick. But the fact that the pilot didn't possess that particular skill wasn't going to stop him, and his (extremely clever , he thought) idea, was to merely try and emulate what WALL.E had done for EVE, in the hope that Face -like EVE- would realize how much he (she) meant to the pilot (robot) .

Murdock considered himself to share many traits with WALL.E, considering one of them was a Gulf war pilot and the other was an animated robot from the future and this was going to be invaluable as a resource for what was to come. Because the more Murdock was like WALL.E, the more his plan could follow along the strange lines. Murdock, like WALL.E, was in love with someone hopelessly out of his league. Face was everything Murdock wasn't; strong, attractive, sane, and if Murdock had possessed a little more realism he would have figured by now that there was no way that Face would ever see anything than friendship in Murdock. But Murdock gladly didn't- which went some way to explaining the sock puppets, varying accents and napalmed steak-and so saw no reason not to at least try to get Face to see him that way.

Also, like WALL.E, Murdock knew the words to every song in 'Hello Dolly!'. With this in mind, he couldn't possibly fail.

So, quietly and without much fuss, Murdock tried to woo Face .It was not, he soon discovered, without its difficulties.

* * *

"We're no strang-ers to lo-o-ve, you know the rules, and so do iiiiii,"

Face opened his eyes to the sound of badly sung 80's pop, and wondered what the hell he could possibly have done to have deserved this. He couldn't not find out what the hell that was and raised his head slightly from where it had been quite comfortably lying against the warm side of the pillow, squinting through the darkness of the room to sight the offender who had woken him.

It hadn't been too hard to guess it would be Murdock.

"Murdock?" Face's voice was groggy, and he wondered whether he was just still dreaming. It wouldn't have surprised him, but it would have been a bad sign if Murdock was managing to infiltrate into his subconscious irritation as well as being the waking bane of his existence. OK, maybe that was a bit harsh. He loved Murdock like crazy (_brotherly _love, he reminded himself, brotherly) , it was just sometimes Murdock chose to launch his games at the most inappropriate times. Like now, for instance. From what Face could see, Murdock was very much awake- and painfully more chipper than he should be at god-knows what hour of the morning, the pilot sitting on the bed across from him, singing Rick Astley in an unfortunately loud and assured voice, that would probably be waking BA and Hannibal unless Face could shut him up. A pissed BA was not what any of them needed, whatever hour of the morning. "What are you doing?"

"I'm serenading you" Murdock replied, frowning as though it was obvious. He didn't look put out however, and continued on as though no question had been asked, oblivious to the glowering look Face was giving him.

The conman sighed, wanting to bury his head under his pillow or strangle the singing man, whichever got him back to sleep faster. It was too _early _for this shit.

"Murdock," he said slowly, trying to remain calm as he looked up at the pilot. A tired Face was a cranky Face, and if he snapped at Murdock the guilt would be enough to keep him awake until he'd finally apologised with placations of playing Frisbee with Billy in the morning or whatever came to mind to stop the pilot being saddened. For some reason, Face couldn't stand to know he'd upset Murdock for long, no matter what the pilot had done to deserve it. Murdock was just Murdock, even if Face wished one of his multiple personalities could be sensible and aware of social graces such as not singing when he was trying to sleep "Would you mind singing a little quieter?" He groaned as a line of "Never go-onna give you up, ne-ver go-onna let you do-o-own..." reached his ears "And possibly another song? Rick Astley gives me a migraine"

He pressed his head back down to the pillow, savouring the fading heat, hoping Murdock had got the subtle request to be quiet and let him sleep. The guy must know what time it was. Face didn't even want to know. It felt _late, _that was all that mattered to him.

A few moments passed and Face felt confident Murdock had settled down for the night. He really shouldn't have.

"I could stay awake, just to he-ar you bre-eathing..."

Face made a whimpering sound into his pillow, half way between a growl and a cry. He should have known. He hit his head against the pillow, trying to will himself into unconsciousness. It didn't work. And the worst thing was that Murdock had done everything he had asked, down to a T. The singing was quieter, more the volume of a lullaby than a serenade (and at least there was no danger of waking Hannibal and BA, not unless they heard Murdock's choked screams as Face strangled him) and dare Face say it, a little more tuneful to boot. Murdock might have had a moderately successful career in karaoke singing if Face wasn't going to kill him right now.

Murdock hadn't heard his groan, so caught up in getting the words right , and by the time Face had tuned back into the noise in his ears, the pilot was starting the chorus , keeping the volume quiet while doing a pitch perfect impression of Steve Tyler's singing.

"Don't wan-na clo-o-se my eye-e-es... Don't wan-na fal-l-l asleep cause I'd miss you bab-b-y..."

"Murdock" His tone was pleading now, "Please, just shut up ok? Let me sleep"

The pilot quietened immediately, and Face paused before he sighed, knowing he'd messed up some part of whatever grand game Murdock was playing at obscene hours of the morning. It must have been important to Murdock, for some wacky reason or another, and even though sleep was trying to get him with welcoming hands, Face knew he'd have to say something by way of an apology. Because dammit, he just knew Murdock would have _that _look on his face. The kicked-puppy look. The look that Face couldn't say no to.

"Tell you what," he mumbled "Why don't you sing to me tomorrow? It's just that I'm really tired now, and I can't... properly appreciate what you're trying to get across in your music"

"OK, Faceman" Murdock sounded appeased with the idea, the smile evident in his tone, and Face settled down back to sleep, wrapping his arms round his pillow and falling quickly into a dreamless black, glad he'd managed to get Murdock quiet for the moment.

He wasn't so pleased in the morning, when he was awoken by a certain soon-to-be-dead pilot serenading him with Enrique Iglesias (with guitar accompaniment), but then again, he couldn't have everything.

* * *

"So , will I be seeing you tonight?" Sosa asked coyly on the other end of the mobile link . Her voice was pitched just right, sultry and low , making suggestions with her voice that she didn't make clear through words. Yet, possibly for the first time ever, when faced with the suggestion of having a good time with a beautiful woman (and he got suggested to, quite a lot, especially when charming people came as part of his non-existent job description), Face paused, an answer not immediately forthcoming from the dark recesses of his brain and subsequent speech capabilities.

And that was curious in itself, because usually when the team's travels brought them near to where the captain was staying, Face would usually take time away to go visit Charisa, while Hannibal sorted out the next big plan, BA messed around with his beloved GMC, and Murdock... well Murdock just acted like Murdock. It wasn't as though he and Sosa were dating again or anything as serious as that, and for a moment Face wondered why she did want him there. Or, more importantly, why he actually wanted to go in the first place. She was the one who had called it off, who- when given the choice between him and her career- had grabbed the latter with both hands and without hesitation. So why was he going to answer her heeds like he was some sort of dog she could call over whenever she wanted?

His thoughts jumped over to the bitter brigade for a second, and it was hard even after all this time dealing with the break-up to draw them back. They wouldn't even really do much- dinner at a black-tie only restaurant, small talk while avoiding the big topics (her knowledge of the CIA's movements to catch his team, and his knowledge of what they'd been doing and where they'd be heading next), the usual banter while the sexual tension simmered, and then it would be back to hers for some quick, frantic, but undoubtedly satisfying sex. At least Face thought it was, but it had been so long now that any sex would be good for his starved libido.

There was a yes on his lips now at the thought of sex (because sometimes, Face could be extremely shallow when he wanted to be, and now felt like the time to be shallow) , but a thought held him back from answering. Was that all he wanted? A predictable dinner, talking about everything but the things that mattered to him, sex that would give him some release but wouldn't actually fulfil him in any way? Maybe they'd talk about 'them', if there was a 'them' at all, and not just a 'you' and 'me', but they'd probably ignore that as well.

Face had an entire night off from missions and plans and near-death-experiences, a night he wanted to spend with someone he cared about, but did that mean he really wanted to spend it with Sosa?

A knock at the door made him turn around. Murdock was there, a small shy smile on his face. When he saw the phone , his smile faltered slightly, like he had wanted to talk to Face alone, hadn't been expecting company in any form. The mask went back up however- quickly like the opening and shutting of a door-, just like it always did, and the smile returned, although a little less intense than it had been before.

"I can come back..." the pilot started, looking back at the door he'd just come through as though offering to leave, southern accent low and quiet. Face shook his head, waving a hand to gesture to Murdock inside the room.

"Hold on a minute, Charisa," he said down the phone, then moved the mobile away from his ear, covering the mouthpiece with his hand so that none of their conversation would be heard on the other end.

"What's up, HM?" he asked, looking at the pilot, wondering idly whether it was an offer for another sock-puppet fight, or even a Scalextric war on the tracks that they'd found in the loft of the safe-house they were in (this idea was slightly more attractive, possibly because Face was a complete master of miniature car racing, and had so far had beaten Murdock and Hannibal hands down, BA being the only other member of the team representing a challenge. Of course, BA had passed the whole thing off as childish and immature, but when Murdock had handed him the joystick for an orange Dodge Charger, it hadn't taken him long to get into the spirit of things)

Murdock however, looked at the phone. There was a frown on his face.

"El Diablo?"

Face found himself wanting to laugh at the question, and grinned at the pilot despite the seriousness of which the question was asked. The expression on Murdock's face was one of dislike, and although it was hidden carefully under layers of pretence, Face knew how to read the pilot by now to know when he didn't like somebody. The pilot, to his credit, could get on with pretty much everybody ( it usually being other people who didn't warm to him because of his unusual actions), and Murdock had put up with Sosa in Iraq for Face's sake when the two of them had been dating, but the two captains had never really gotten on. Murdock had tried to warm to her, but the fact that she had attempted to monopolise Face in terms of affections made him irritated and lonely, because Face was _his _friend as well, and not a pet she could just keep by her side. While Hannibal and BA had just considered Sosa a phase that Face would grow out of, Murdock hadn't liked how the team sometimes came second when Charisa got involved, and had been vocal about it to Face as he usually was about things. Sosa, on the other hand, had never really accepted Murdock's... quirky attributes, having little patience for offers of lightsaber fights and games of Jenga or Snakes and Ladders from a man she considered to be unfit to serve in the army.

The dislike had only become more concentrated when Murdock had found burning her wardrobe a suitable revenge tactic when she had hurt Face by dumping him so callously (It had been Murdock, Face remembered, along with Hannibal and BA, that had listened to his rants, who had tried to rouse him from his black moods, Murdock who had pulled him away from the bar when Face had been trying to drink to forget, the conman lashing out in a drunken anger, and in the morning when the area Face had managed to hit under his eye turned purple, Murdock had been the first to wave it off and forgive him). It turned out Dolce & Gabbana and Yves Saint Laurent burned pretty well when set alight, and Face distinctly recalled Sosa screaming quite loudly at the pilot , threatening to get him sectioned for what he'd done (the charge, he thought, went something along the lines of 'wilful destruction , and putting other members of the base at high-risk of fire hazards') It had taken all of Face's considerable conning skills to get the top brass to drop the charges, because he'd known Murdock enough to know that he had done it for the sole reason that Sosa had hurt Face- one of his team, his adoptive family- , and there was no way Face was gonna let them take Murdock back to some backwater VA to be dosed up with drugs and shot through with electrics. Face had to admit though, in a small vindictive way, it had been worth the effort he'd expended on Murdock's behalf , just to stand at the side of the miniature bonfire of clothes and wood (turned out the pilot had been quite literal when he'd gone about burning her wardrobe, the furniture pieces itself having been added to the pile), burning orange and red, with Murdock by his side, chanting and offering the clothes as a 'sacrifice to the gods of Olympus'

"Yeah" Face replied in answer, and Murdock shuffled his feet, looking at the white toes caps of his high-tops before returning his gaze to Face.

"I was just wondering... if you maybe wanted a movie night?" The pilot held up the DVD's he had been holding behind his back, quietly hoping Face would say yes. It was part of his grand scheme after all ( although Face didn't know it), and Murdock had worked hard to con the popcorn , sweet bags, and pepsi bottles they had needed for a _proper _film night. Luckily, Murdock could be as good an actor as Face or Hannibal when he wanted, and although Murdock didn't have Face's looks or charisma, he did remember how to pull off a good con- having often worked with Face- and he also possessed a disarming grin that he'd make people trust him more before he scammed the required items from them. "You can choose the film. I got the sweet popcorn you like and everything"

Face looked at the three DVD's in the pilot's hand, wondering why on earth Murdock had chosen such a painfully romantic selection of films. 'Hello Dolly!', 'The Princess Bride' and 'When Harry met Sally' weren't Face's usual cup of tea, but he smiled at the pilot anyway. A DVD night with Murdock may not be a romantic evening with a beautiful woman, but it seemed to appeal to him more tonight. Murdock undoubtedly, would be more effort than Sosa, and Face would have to put up with Murdock lip-syncing with the film of choice, hogging the popcorn or even just using it as ammo to aim at Face if a boring scene showed up, and the pilot's limpet-like qualities when it came to sitting next to someone on a sofa (and Face just knew that some time in the course of the film Murdock would start using him as some sort of human pillow). But Face didn't mind. He never really minded.

"Get the DVD set up," he said, and Murdock's grin was so sudden and joyful, it took him by surprise "Your choice for first pick. I'll just be a sec, ok?" He gestured to the phone, but even the reminder of Sosa didn't dampen Murdock's spirits. The pilot nodded, practically scampering out of the room in his eagerness, and Face had time to give a bemused but fond shake of his head before he removed his hand from the phone's mouthpiece.

"Yeah, Charisa?" he said, wondering how long he'd kept her waiting, but not giving much chase to the thought. For the moment, it didn't really matter "I'm gonna have to pass on that offer. Something else came up" Face hadn't even thought about how strange this situation must look from the outside- Templeton Peck, passing an offer of sex with a beautiful woman just so he could spend time watching romantic films with a heterosexual male pilot (at least Face thought he was, he'd never actually seen Murdock with any sort of partner, male or female) who would no doubt chatter to Face all the way through the films (unless it was the Princess Bride. That was a film Murdock practically knew the script to), making Face giggle like an immature kid in the back row of the cinema with a bunch of mates, spurting coke though his nose because he was laughing so violently and laughing even harder after that.. But for some reason, it didn't feel strange to Face. He was spending time with someone he cared about, and it didn't have to be a lover or romantic attachment like Sosa, but could really just be someone like Murdock, a close friend that Face had never had before he met the crazy pilot.

"Oh," Sosa sounded put out and a little bit surprised, as though she hadn't expected him to decline her proposal. It wasn't like Face had a good track record for ever being distracted from matters of a female persuasion. Not usually when it had anything to do with Sosa. "OK, then. Another time maybe?"

"Maybe" Face said non-committally, and he was intrigued at how uninterested his voice sounded. He'd never sounded this way with her, as far as he could remember. Passionate, loving, even angry, but never uninterested. Maybe he was finally getting over her? His mind wasn't even on Sosa right now, it was on Murdock, and he'd rather be off the phone and eating popcorn right now than tying up his goodbyes "Got to go now, speak to you soon ok?"

"All right..." Face's goodbye was rushed and both of them knew it. It was clear by Sosa's tone. Usually he was trying to stay on the phone for as long as he could, but today he was speeding it along, trying to get her off, and the sudden change in the norm had put her off.

Murdock's shout came from the other room "Come on, Facey. I'm all ready for ya"

"Is that Murdock?" Charisa's words were icy, and the way she said Murdock's name was one step away from titling him 'that lunatic pilot'. Face bristled at the tone, wanting to defend Murdock against anything she might say (and more than once his closeness and quick defence of the pilot were the starter for one of their arguments) , but curiously there was a more shocked hint to her voice, like she'd just heard something she completely hadn't expected "Is Murdock there?"

"Yes..." Face replied, and he wasn't going to deny he was a bit confused. "Why?"

"With you?"

"Yes"

"You and Murdock?"

"What's your problem with that?"

"Nothing..." Sosa said hurriedly, and Face felt like he was missing something. A big something. And he didn't like it "Just that I didn't think you were... into that sort of thing. Not with a guy like him"

The metaphorical pieces clicked, Face wanting to let out a groan as it hit him. From what Murdock had shouted, Sosa had immediately jumped to the conclusion that he and the pilot were... otherwise engaged doing other things ,or about to be. She'd probably already thought that he was turning her down for a better offer , and when she'd heard Murdock in the background, she'd put the wrong pieces in the jigsaw. What surprised Face more however, was the fact that he was more upset about her last comment than the suggestion that he was gay and having sex with a man who was effectively his best friend.

"What do you mean 'a guy like him'?"

Sosa must have heard the anger in his tone, but she responded in turn, defensive to the last, possibly though jealousy or just because he'd snapped at her, Face couldn't tell. "Nothing bad, just that... you know... he's got real problems... messed up, that sorta thing. I would have thought you'd have gone for someone who acts less like a... a circus freak "

Face tried to stay calm, but it was hard, considering what he'd just heard. He wanted to shout but that'd mean she'd effectively won, and he didn't want Murdock to hear in the other room. It was obvious that he was really looking forward to tonight, and Face didn't want Sosa's comments to mess that up. "Not that it's any of your goddamn business," he growled back down the phone, keeping his voice low "but if I was with Murdock,- which I'm not, but if I was- I wouldn't care about any of that. None of it. He might act a bit crazy yeah, but we all do in our own little way. And yeah, he's different, but he's genuine and funny and kind and if that makes him a... a freak, then I'd rather go with him than someone like you any day"

" I'm sorry, Face" Sosa was trying to backtrack what she was saying, "I didn't mean it like that..." In his irritation, Face was having none of it.

"Save it, Sosa" he said, and hung up. For a second he just stood there, phone still in his hand, trying to get his anger under control. He didn't know what he was more pissed off at, that Sosa had said those things, or that she'd dared to say them about Murdock. But then he heard Murdock's shout of "Come on Face. You'll miss the beginning!" , and he immediately calmed.

All thoughts of Sosa were quickly banished from his mind as he went into the front room, greeted by a gleeful Murdock loudly humming the opening song of 'Hello Dolly!', a large bowl of popcorn nestled between his crossed legs.

"Everything ok?" Murdock asked, looking at Face as he sat down "You took a while"

"Everything fine HM,"Face replied, and he meant it as he felt Murdock settle into him again, Face pulling a handful of popcorn into the bowl "Everything's fine"


	2. Hell or High Water

**Part 2/4  
****Hell or High Water**

He had heard the phrase, 'the road to true love is never smooth', but Murdock hadn't realised how damn hard this would be. OK, his main reference for this whole plan _was_ an animated cartoon, but surely if WALL.E and EVE had managed to fall in love in the space of a one and a half hour movie (and EVE was on standby for half the time she spent with the small yellow waste-disposal unit), Murdock should have to get Face to at least get the hint in the near four weeks he'd been trying.

He had sang romantic musical numbers to Face, trying to stay in tune and even bringing out his guitar to add accompaniment (admittedly while Face was trying to sleep, but it was the only time when Murdock could do it discreetly). He'd tried to show Face his favourite films with an obvious theme of romance and attraction (he wasn't sure whether Hello Dolly! or the Princess Bride was more to the point, so he'd shown him them both to no effect. He even tried When Harry met Sally and Sleepless in Seattle for an extra push, but still, nada, and Face had finally gotten fed up of romantic films and they'd both ended up falling asleep on the sofa with Die Hard still playing). Murdock had even bought him a plant out of desperation (ok, he'd dug a dandelion up and put it in Face's mug, but the lieutenant hadn't seemed to have minded, and the two of them had spent a night trying to find a name for it, the suggestions getting sillier and sillier the more the two giggled . Having said that, neither of them remembered to water it and it had promptly died after a couple of days)

And yet through it all, Face had remained oblivious to Murdock's intentions, passing off his efforts off as merely more of the pilot's crazy antics. How more obvious could Murdock be? Even Hannibal and BA had noticed something was up, had noticed the change between how Murdock acted around Face. There were less personality-shifts (Murdock hadn't even acted like a Roman Legionnaire for two weeks; something that was usually a solid favourite flight of fancy), less winding up Bosco (because he was putting all his planning into the 'Face' situation) and even less dog-walks with the ever-present Billy. They hadn't said anything however, and unbeknownst to the pilot, had secretly both watched WALL.E after Face and Murdock had gone to bed and they'd finished with a two film stretch of Rambo (BA's choice) and The Deerhunter (Hannibal's). It hadn't taken long, having seen the film and Murdock's subsequent unusual antics around Face, for them to realise exactly what the pilot was trying to do. It hadn't really come as a shock to either BA or Hannibal that Murdock liked Face, the Colonel having seen it coming a mile off as per usual- and calmly predicting the two would get together by the end of the month, firmly believing that Face liked the pilot just as much but being too much of an ignorant idiot to realise it. BA was tolerant enough to not be bothered by it, but they had both agreed that Face and Murdock had to to sort this out on their own, without any help (BA had been particularly adamant on this, knowing that once Hannibal was on the jazz, matchmaking plans to help the two would be schemed , and would most likely fail spectacularly. He wasn't the biggest fan of Team Murdock and his personalities-of-the-day, but despite his usually angry comments directed at the pilot, he still cared for him. Murdock had always been like a kid brother, an irritating pain-in-the-ass kid brother, but despite their differences, there would be hell to pay from BA and his fists if the pilot got hurt, even if Face was the one doing the hurting)

One thing Murdock had not managed to do yet however, was to try and hold Face's hand. It was the key, he fervently believed, to getting Face to understand, and had been the way WALL.E and EVE had reconciled in the film, EVE finally realising what WALL.E meant to her. Unfortunately the pilot didn't have the courage to reach out and do it. Thinking about it was one thing, putting it into action another thing entirely. For if Murdock did take the leap, Face would be left with no doubt how Murdock felt about him (because as close as they were, friends didn't hold each others hands).

And a small dark place in the pilot's heart was terrified of the rejection he might have to deal with. Because Face wasn't EVE in so much as he wasn't female to Murdock's male, and Face was the epitome of manliness by way of being selectively attracted to hot, young women. Not men as far as he knew, and certainly not people like Murdock. The cruel voice in his head (the one Murdock firmly ignored most of the time) laughed at him for being so hopeful, telling him there was no way someone like Face would ever want someone like Murdock, someone damaged and unpredictable and mad, despite what the films said otherwise. But Murdock was fine living in hope and surviving with just friendship if that was what it took to maintain his relationship with a painfully heterosexual Face. He didn't want to lose what he and Face had, even if it wasn't what he ultimately wanted. Face was his friend, his best friend, his first real friend (because even though when he'd served in Iraq before Mexico he'd had people he knew and trusted, there was always a barrier between them put up by his madness. People couldn't take to him, didn't know how, and even though he couldn't begrudge them for it, it still left him on his own.) So if pretending was what it took to keep his friend as a friend and so avoiding any awkwardness , he would do it.

Murdock could be very good at pretending.

But Murdock could also be patient when the mood took him, and so he waited for a day when Face would realise what he'd been trying to do all this time. He dismissed the dark tone of his subconscious thoughts and soldiered on, trying everything he could to tell Face how he felt without ever actually holding Face's hand or even speaking the words he wanted to say so badly . Because that's what real gentlemen did, if they were that much in love. They waited. And Murdock was nothing if not a gentleman. Who was definitely, painfully, that much in love. No matter how Disney he knew it sounded.

And then one of their missions went wrong, and Murdock found himself kidnapped along with Face by the bad guys of the week.

It had all generally gone downhill from there.

* * *

The main problem Murdock had to contend with was not so much the fact he was locked in a small dingy cell with little food, no water and with the promise of being painful interrogated by drug-runners they had been trying to bring down for the usual pedestrian information; who are you, who do you work for, etcetera, etcetera. The problem was in fact a certain Faceman Peck. And this problem was getting worse, and it was scaring the shit out of Murdock more than all the other problems combined.

The lieutenant had been stabbed in the shoulder with a small serrated knife when he'd been struggling against the hold of their captor's (and Murdock didn't want to think about how they'd held up it to his throat afterwards, promising they'd slit him if he tried another stunt like the one he'd just pulled- which had consisted of Face elbowing one of them hard in the face before he'd been subdued by another two). That in itself wasn't great, but hey, Face was old enough to handle a bit of pain in the time it took for Hannibal and BA to come and rescue them. They'd all been through worse shit. So that wasn't the problem.

The problem was that although the wound had stopped bleeding- and despite the fact it was a hell of a lot better than what it could have been, no major arteries nicked, no massive blood loss -in the dark dank conditions they had been thrown into (because as usual, kidnappers had no sense of decoration or imagination), the wound had gotten very infected very quickly. And that was definitely bad.

The skin around the cut was red raw and deep, veined with lines of white and weeping fluid , blood staining the skin surrounding it and completely ruining Face's grey jacket (which was probably one of those expensive 'brand' suits that Face liked to buy, and Murdock knew that in any other circumstance, Face would have twined like a little girl with a skinned knee for what their captors had done to his clothing) . The cut looked angry , nasty , downright painful, even though Face had shrugged it off at first,saying they had more to worry about than a mere flesh wound. His body had seemingly disagreed with this, and it hadn't taken long for fever to take hold with grasping fingers. And there wasn't any sign it was going to let go of the lieutenant any time soon.

It had been down to Murdock to be the responsible one. Murdock, the one who was the most unpredictable, Murdock who barely held a grip on his own reality was to be the one who had to keep his head, even when he didn't know the first thing about how to fix this. He'd taken basic medical training like they all had, knew about bandaging wounds and CPR and all the stuff that would one day save somebody's life. But despite the fact he could correctly bandage Face's wound with a strip of cloth torn from his t-shirt, and knew the primary things about infection and fever, in here, in this place, the knowledge couldn't be really out to good use. All Murdock really understood was that it was now his job to look after Face , because their captors wouldn't give a thought to if he died so long as they got the answers they wanted off him. And Murdock was damned if he was going to let them lay a finger on Face.

The lieutenant got worse as the days went by, burning up with fever and infection, muttering gibberish inter-spaced with calling out for Murdock, asking him where he was , panicking when he thought he wasn't there. It was like Face had accidentally taken some of Murdock's pills that the VA used to give him, seeing things and muttering madness, except it was a dark reaction, frightening. It wasn't like Murdock with Billy or the pilot pretending to be a samurai for a day, his mind travelling to fourteenth century China, and he was so damn scared when Face started talking to nothing that he had to try hard and reign in the on-coming panic attack. He needed to keep calm, because if he lost it, who would look after Face?

It was all Murdock could do to try and keep Face lucid, diligently trying to get the man's temperature down from the over 100F that it felt like with a strip of his clothing soaked with the water he'd loudly demanded from the guards, shouting and hollering at the keyhole (he wasn't called Howlin' Mad for nothing) before they'd finally got sick of it and given him what he wanted. It had been worth the slaps he'd received for supposed 'impertinence' when Face's temperature slowly began to lower; not fast enough for his liking, but enough to make a difference.

When the men came to take one of them away for questioning, Murdock always kicked up enough of a fuss- yelling, goading, clawing, anything- so that they always took him. Him, not Face. That thought got him through whatever they could throw at him

He spoke to Face in a constant stream of sound, trying to keep him conscious for as long as he could, afraid of the lieutenant sinking further into fever, afraid Face wouldn't wake up again. Murdock talked about everything and nothing till his voice turned hoarse with overuse, chasing the darkness away with his words. Silence gave him too much time to think, too much time to doubt.

He told Face stories he'd heard, places he'd been, sang to himself and his unmoving audience quietly so the guards wouldn't hear. And when it was deathly quiet, the sense of witching hour that felt like every hour of the long dark nights he spent awake, and doubts that they'd get out of here began to steal into his thoughts, Murdock told an unconscious Face quietly that he'd make sure they got out of here. That he wouldn't let anything happen to him because Murdock loved him , because that's what you did when you loved someone. You kept them safe. You pulled them along with fairy lights if they couldn't move themselves, you held an umbrella over them when it rained even if you got hit by the lightening. You crossed galaxies to be with them, you risked everything just to protect them. Even if they didn't know you loved them.

Even if Face didn't love him back.

* * *

He didn't know how long it took ( days? a week? He'd lost count of the hours, because it just felt like a long stretch of endless time to him, eons trapped in the dull prison of a minute, broken by Face whimpering in pain and fever, and their captors coming back with more questions. Murdock couldn't decide which hurt him more.) , but one day he thought he saw a tall man with grey hair barge into their dingy cell, wrenching the now-unlocked door open.

The man looked curiously like Hannibal.

Murdock squinted at the light, thought at first the man might be another hallucination- because he'd had a couple of them already and they got tiring quickly. Hannibal in his questionably sane mind always looked the part, looked real down to the last steel grey hair on his head. The words he spoke were always the same: "We're here Murdock. You don't have anything to worry about now. Face'll be ok". And Murdock, like the idiot he was, believed the fake plastic words the first few times, before the open door he saw in the visions turned out to be locked every time he tried, the phantom images of his team-mates having abandoned him to whatever fate was waiting . He knew not to get his hopes up too much now, so the eventual let-down would hurt less.

Murdock could do with a little less pain in this hell right now.

But then this Hannibal knelt down next to Face and Murdock so he was at the same level, and there was relief and anger and a million other expressions on the older man's face. Hannibal looked tired, and Murdock thought to himself that the other hallucinations had been a lot more well-kept than this one. There hadn't been any fear latent in his eyes. Hadn't been dirt on his clothes, nor blood that definitely didn't look like his own.

Hannibal said Murdock's name, his brogue low and concerned. Murdock didn't react , because the other hallucination had done that too, and had only glared at Hannibal as if trying to will the phantasm away with his mind. He knew this game, and he didn't want to play it any more.

He didn't actually do anything until Hannibal moved closer to Face, who was lying with his head resting against Murdock's shoulder- his jacket and shirt removed to try and cool him down. The lieutenant gave a feeble cough in his sleep and Hannibal put out a hand to check the lieutenants temperature from his forehead.

There had been a sound then, a curious low noise like the growling of wild animal, and it took a second for Murdock to realise it was coming from him. He must have looked half-mad, feral; his face and body bruised and battered yet his position with his back against the wall subconsciously moving to protect Face as he warned the would-be attacker off, one of his arms held out in front of the unconscious Face, part of a human barrier. He'd spent too long fighting the shadows that came for the two of them, both real and imaginary, and for a terrifying second he imagined himself attacking the man before him (because it wasn't Hannibal. It couldn't be Hannibal), clawing and biting and doing whatever was necessary to make sure Face was safe.

But then Hannibal spoke again, pulling his hand away and holding it up in a peaceful gesture. He told Murdock everything was ok now, that he and BA were here, that nothing would hurt him. Nothing would hurt Face.

Murdock stopped growling, looking up at Hannibal, with one of his eyes swollen from where a hard punch had been landed. He wanted to believe him, wanted it so badly, and focused closely on his Colonel even though the room was swaying slightly at this point, as though he wasn't sure to buy into this fantasy or not. He still didn't move away from Face, didn't dare in case it was a trick. No one was going to hurt Face. No one. Murdock was responsible for him, had to make sure he was safe, even though he'd failed him so far (he hadn't been able to break them out, hadn't been able to make Face better, hadn't been able to fix what was wrong. Face had whimpered in his sleep, begged Murdock in fever-addled speech to make the burning go away, but Murdock couldn't, no matter how much it tore at his heart, Face's cries slices of sound that cut into him. That knowledge perhaps hurt more than whatever their captors had hit him with)

He heard BA from behind Hannibal (Was it BA? He heard anger in the big man's tone, violence, like he wanted to tear at the world but would settle with hurting those who his fists were directed at. For a second Murdock wondered if it was him Bosco was angry at, wondered what he'd done wrong) , speaking in a low voice, telling him they needed to hurry up and get out of here. Murdock moved closer against Face- they weren't going to take him, he wasn't going to let them.

Hannibal paused, looking at the pilot as though wondering how to deal with this, before he addressed Murdock in a quiet gentle voice as 'captain' (but Murdock wasn't a captain any more, and even when he had been it had only ever been Hannibal who'd called him that, because to everyone else that madman having a title like that was just a bad joke the army had pulled), before saying that he wouldn't let anything happen to Face, that if Murdock let him, he'd be able to get Face treated at a hospital.

"Promise?" Murdock heard himself speak, and wondered why his voice was so small, so pained, like it hurt to even form words. He didn't say anything else, just tried to get his meaning across to Hannibal by looking straight in his CO's pale blue eyes. _Promise me Face will be ok. _

Hannibal nodded like he'd understood, a hand touching Murdock gently on the shoulder "I promise"

Murdock gave into the delusion then, because Hannibal-whether real or not- had promised Facey would be ok, and the Colonel never lied to them, would never lie to them. He nodded his permission wearily , sensing the black sweeping in on him , the wave he'd held back for so long coming to claim him.

And finally, he allowed pain, hunger and exhaustion to lull him into unconsciousness.

_Facey would be ok._

* * *

Face didn't open his eyes until after nearly a week and a half after he'd been brought into hospital.

He had floated in a nothingness of black for so long that he'd lost track of how long he'd spent there. Time was a character much ignored in the reality he had lived, the two states that he had witnessed on his visit there being Pain and Numbness- he had flicked between the two unwanted friendships through seemingly no will of his own- , and they were creations in his mind of such realism that he did not want to return to their land. On the verge of darkness and light he had balanced like a circus act of chance, the blackness and burning heat leading a way he didn't want to go, the white holding out a hand to help him away. The blackness offered a nothing that at times had been so tempting- the cessation of the charring heat that mixed with the throbbing drum-beat of pain spiking from his shoulder outwards, strands of feeling spreading outwards from that spot like something taking hold of him. Yet his heart feared that way for no reason his addled mind could explain, and so he held onto the knife edge , comforted by the vague voice he could hear as a constant, gentle and familiar, though he could not hear or understand any of the words spoken in the murky depths of his fever.

He finally awoke from his purgatory groggily, his first sight in his blurred vision that of a white walled hospital room. His mind felt slow, foggy, and he had to work hard to conjure up the energy to even wonder why he was here. How he had got here. Small questions, but you know, important things first. He tried to cast his mind back over the past few days, looking for evidence as to what the hell he could have missed. It was arduous , like wading through quicksand, but his brain obviously wasn't playing ball here either. It was like the cogs of his thoughts were jammed with too many questions all at once, too much data for it to handle, and any memories he did manage to dredge up were tainted with a dark stain; a flared crying pain in his shoulder, a merciless heat that left him hollow and burnt. It left him wondering whether he really wanted to know or not.

Face stirred from his immobility, forcing his muscles to get him to sit up so he could try and get out of this bed- because honestly, doing nothing wasn't going to help him solve anything. There was a build up of thoughts in his head, questions he couldn't quite bring into focus, but he placed actually moving as a first priority. He needed to find one of the team so they could tell him what the hell was going on.

But an on-duty nurse had obviously spotted him , and she bustled over in her blue starched uniform, her shoes making the clopping nose of horses hoof-steps as she strode over to his bedside, firmly informing him in a no-nonsense voice reserved only for nurses and politicians that he had to rest, that he was still recovering. He protested with a frown creasing his brow, attempting to move away from her touch on his chest pushing him back down , but the woman was having none of it, determined that her patient was going to get better regardless of whether he had a choice in it or not. Face wanted to fight her off, wanted her to get the hell away from him so he could find out where his friends were, but he found himself drained of strength when he endeavoured to simply push the nurse out of the way. His shoulder stung, the pull of tendons making him hiss, and pain scratched and yowled at the corners of his mind. The nurse offered more morphine , yet Face waved her off.

When he finally spoke, his voice sandpaper croaky as though he hadn't used it for so long, he asked for Murdock. The one person who'd help him make sense of this whole damn thing. He wanted a friendly face, and even though he could have chosen serious Hannibal or straight-talking BA, his thoughts immediately jumped to the excitable pilot. Murdock'd fix it, whatever was wrong. Murdock'd make it all ok.

Yet the nurse didn't recognise the name, frowned at the name and enquiring as to who he meant. A jolt of panic shocked through his veins, and he frantically wondered why she wouldn't know him. It wasn't as though he wasn't memorable. You couldn't forget a man like Murdock, not without extensive therapy . What if something had happened to him? The last thing he remembered was being with Murdock, and now he was in a hospital. So what about Murdock? What if the pilot had been hurt, hurt badly, and dammit ,he'd know more if he could just remember what the hell happened. The static still lingered in his brain, trying to tune into a decent picture that he could make sense of. Darkness, he could remember. Tiredness. Heat. Cold water dubbed gently on his skin, a litany of constant words in a familiar accent that held him back from the edge.

"The man who came in with me?" he ventured again, aware of the desperation in his voice "Sandy hair, green eyes?"

"You mean your cousin, Mr Cooper?" the nurse enquired, her voice lilting in remembrance "Yes, he was here, but he was released yesterday. Paperwork signed and everything. I wasn't happy about it mind, said he hadn't finished healing yet, not with all those injuries he came in with, but he was quite insistent about it. He didn't want to stay a moment longer than he had to"

Face fixed her with a look, confused and worried in equal measure. _Not with all those injuries he came in with. _Jesus, what had Murdock gotten himself into this time? Normally he'd pass it off, because everyone knew that HM Murdock was almost as good at getting himself into trouble as he was at getting out, but the way the woman had phrased it made it sound more serious. He'd been hurt, badly enough to need healing time in a hospital. Face knew how tetchy Hannibal was about them being admitted to any sort of medical institution, what with them being on the run and everything.

"What do you mean injuries? What injuries?"

"I think you need to rest more Mr Wenneck" the nurse said, answering one of Face's questions of mere curiosity; the conman having wondered vaguely what name Hannibal had put on the paperwork this time. Despite him wanting to argue at the nurse's statement, wanting to interrogate her for more information, , he was loath to hold back the sudden tiredness that stirred over him, like he was completely devoid of energy. "A doctor can come and explain everything to you when you wake up" And regardless of the worries running around his mind and the questions- _Murdock? Injured?-_ Face closed his eyes and lay back against the indented pillow, let sleep take him.

When he dreamt, he dreamt of fire and stone and a southern voice whispering his name.


	3. Sackcloth and Ashes

_Thanks to the person who signed only as 'Jordan', who was helpful enough to point out a kinda big mistake in this chapter. It's been fixed up, so hopefully no-one will ever know... =]_

* * *

**Part 3/4  
****Sackcloth and Ashes**

Face got better slowly, but that was enough in itself.

Every day Murdock heard from BA about how much he was whining about hospital food and being stuck in a bed all day; a sure-fire sign of a fast recovery. Part of him wanted to be there, making sure the conman was ok, making sure none of the damage was lasting. Whatever happened, it was a running joke within the team that Face and Murdock were practically joined at the hip. Peas in the proverbial pod. Where you found one, the other wasn't far off, and this trait -that had been present since Iraq- had survived the passage to being on the run. Murdock had once told Face that they were like Jedi, and that in the crossover he'd considered in his head, Face was the suave rebel Han Solo, Murdock passing himself the part of Luke Skywalker, with Hannibal and BA Qui-Gon and Mace Windu accordingly. And although Face had complained at him being the guy who got his ass kicked and frozen in the fifth film (although secretly, he liked the idea of being the handsome rogue who got the girl), had argued that Hannibal looked nothing like Qui-Gon Jinn , and that Murdock couldn't just make BA Windu just because he was the only black Jedi (Murdock had argued this fervently that Windu could kick anyone's ass, just like BA, and that Hannibal _so_ was a Jedi in disguise), the conman had grinned and gone along with a joke, and the whole thing had culminated in an extremely tiring and physical , yet fun sword fight.

But in the time Murdock had spent in that place, the shadows had been allowed to grow and fester in his heart. He was no Jedi, no hero, and in his mind, the black smear of a small doubt had sprouted; the thought that if he'd tried hard enough, Face wouldn't have nearly died. Face was his best friend, his partner-in-crime, and under Murdock's care- no matter how well-meaning it had been- he would have died if Hannibal hadn't turned up. Face would have _died_, and Murdock would have seen it as his fault.

It occurred to him once or twice that maybe he was over-reacting, that maybe he was blaming himself in order to find some reasoning in what had happened, some control where he'd had none for so long. He had been able to do nothing in that place, nothing but whisper to a comatose man and wait for those bastards to come back with more questions. The shadows engulfed the thought, dragged his mind back to the dark road it was treading with no chance for him to turn tail back to rationality.

Facey, _his _Facey, was ok now, but he very nearly hadn't been.

Murdock had awoken at the hospital a few days after he'd been brought in. His injuries hadn't been good, cracked ribs and bruises everywhere, and when Hannibal asked him what had happened, he couldn't stop himself from shuddering at the memories. He told in choked breath of the questions they'd asked while they punched him again and again, the laughing sound they'd made when they shot electrics through his howling body. Hannibal had been mad- angry simmering mad- and that had made Murdock shake even more, because he couldn't handle it when someone else got upset around him, and he thanked the deities that Hannibal had noticed- like he always did-, had kept his calm for the pilot's sake. But he'd made Hannibal swear that he wouldn't tell Face, because Facey couldn't know, couldn't find out. He'd think it was his fault, but Murdock had known it was his burden to bear, and for Face he'd carry any weight, any charge, because that's what friends did. Face would have done it for him, had done it for him all the times Murdock lost himself. The pilot was just repaying the favour.

A week passed by, Face still not having woken up, yet Murdock's injuries had healed enough for him to be able to sign himself out of care Hannibal hadn't agreed with it, but Murdock knew that the less time he stayed, the less chance that the CIA would catch onto where they were. Even with the correct paperwork, the authorities might become a little bit suspicious about two men with Ranger tattoos turning up at a small hospital not twenty miles from where a drug-cartel base had been recently and efficiently taken out. The A-Team were well enough known around the criminal underworld for being the sort of guys to avoid, and if the CIA heard any wind of them getting a call regarding the drugs-cartel, it wouldn't take much to put the new patient arrivals , the destruction of a Mexican mafia-like base and the whispers of the soldiers of fortune in the area for the government security force to make the numbers required. With only one patient it was easier, and with the faked papers Face could be protected long enough for him to heal up and be on his way out, but for two, especially one with Murdock's obviously noticeable injuries (he couldn't use falling down stairs or getting into a bar-fight as an explanation, not with the wounds and bruises spaced out over a time scale of six days of imprisonment) it was a challenge. The sooner Murdock got out of there, the better, and even if Hannibal argued that he needed rest and recuperation just like Face, the colonel knew that they'd all rather Murdock recuperated with them, somewhere they knew he was safe. Where they could make sure he wasn't going to lose it on them.

Hannibal spent most of his time at the hospital, keeping a close eye on Face as well as looking out for any inklings that the conman's presence had been noticed by anyone official. As far as Murdock had heard, Face had recovered from most of the infection- the pain in his shoulder receding under careful care and morphine, leaving only a silvery white scar that would pale over time-, and the colonel had helped filled what had happened since the two had been kidnapped the best he could. Which meant Murdock was left with BA in the warehouse Face had scammed for them before this whole cock-up started.

BA had tread around the pilot like a fragile china doll the first few days after he'd come back, remembering the look that had ghosted Murdock's eyes when Hannibal had tried to get to Face, the feral glare that had stood out boldly and defiantly despite coming from a man who looked like a poster-boy for domestic violence. BA had honestly thought Murdock had lost it, and he wouldn't have blamed him. They'd all survived a lot, but Murdock more than most, and BA knew there was a lot of shit gone down in Murdock's lifetime that nobody deserved to have to cope with. There was only so much a man could deal with, even the crazy pilot, and those six-days of intense stress and pain would have been enough to push a lesser man over the edge. But Murdock was a tough bugger, and had come out the other side. That look was gone, banished to an unwanted memory at the back of BA's mind, but there was still a light in that crazy fool's eyes, a sense of loss and self-hatred that BA couldn't quite break through. It wasn't immediately noticeable in the glimpse of dulled subdued thoughts behind his eyes, but he could tell by the slump of the pilot's shoulder, the way he flinched when BA spoke too loudly, the way he threw himself into every task hadn't to him like he was trying to exorcise something out of himself. It made BA want to go out and hurt the people who'd touched the pilot, who'd dared mess with him, his 'irritating pain-in-the-ass kid brother' , and it had been so hard to hold back the tsunami of his wrath when they'd caught the bastards that had done it.

The worse thing was that they'd laughed. They'd _fucking_ laughed and that had been the last strand of BA's self control frayed and snapped. Hannibal had told him to calm down, to hold fire, but Bosco had only seen the pale and unmoving figure of Face, the near-broken link of reality in Murdock's eyes as he let the anger lose, lost himself as he shoved and hit and growled his way to a numb oblivion. Hannibal had shouted, BA only lashing out, feeling the pain in his fists and the hurt in his heart, seeing bruises and cuts and the scared look of a crazy man as he hit again and again. It was only Hannibal telling him that Face needed medical attention now, that he needed him, needed BA to help carry Murdock because he couldn't do this alone, that had him resurfacing from the engulfing violence in his mind.

Yet that light was still there, and BA knew he wasn't the one who could fix it. There was always the knowledge in the back of his mind, the knowledge he accepted even if he didn't have to like it, that someone needed to be there for Murdock, and that was a space he was never going to be able to fill. It was a space shaped and moulded by years of unspoken affection, of one of those once-in-a-lifetime loves, and BA was well aware that Murdock needed Face, just as much as Face had needed Murdock. Murdock needed Face back to help him chase the nightmares away, to tell him it wasn't his fault- because Bosco Baracus knew the pilot enough to know that that crazy ass fool would blame himself just like he always did- and the thought had protruded in BA's mind that Face and Murdock might need a bit more this time. The time for them dancing around each other without even knowing it was a dying age, and Bosco recognised that the two needed each other in every way, not just friendship and camaraderie. He didn't have to like the idea, but who was he to argue with something that seemed just to be, to make perfect sense? It had to happen some time, and the tension and stress between the two would work enough to pull the issue to the forefront.

Whatever the outcome.

When Face was realised from hospital, BA was there to greet the van at the entrance to the warehouse. Face stepped down from the car as soon as the engine was cut, with a smile on his face and in his eyes, but BA watched as the smile faded quickly, replaced by a look of hurt as he looked around. And although he grinned at BA, walking up to greet him with a smile, the look was forced.

"Where's Murdock?" was the first thing he said to BA. Bosco should have known. He didn't have the heart to be hurt. He'd already said his words of 'how-ya-doin?' and 'how-they-treatin'-ya?' when he'd visited at the hospital, and that round of awkward questioning didn't need a repeat. Face had asked for Murdock before all else, and honestly BA wasn't bothered as some others might have been. That wasn't how things worked in his world, and if he had someone around who meant as much to him as Murdock did to Face, he wouldn't have been mincing his words either.

"I'm sure he's around, lieutenant" Hannibal said gently, his brogue sounding in the quiet but doing nothing to break the expression of confusion from Face's frown. Frankly in BA's opinion, tiptoeing around this wasn't going to help. Bosco sighed, considering adding an eye-roll for effect. Really, did he have to do everything around here?

"Faceman, come here a sec." He gestured to the conman, giving Hannibal a quick glance that told the colonel _exactly _what was going to go down here. Someone had to take charge, and today BA was the man with the plan. Hannibal nodded, discerning the necessity, and motioned to Face.

"Just going to park this, kid"

The conman seemed even more confused as Hannibal got back in the car, the question on his face disguising the hurt in his eyes for a second, but nevertheless he walked over to BA as the car moved away.

"What's up, Bosco?"

"Now , I want you to listen up Face. " BA started , looking critically at the lieutenant , wondering how the hell the universe had roped him into being peacemaker for the two crazy men in his life. Both crazy in love, that was their problem. " An' you gonna have to listen to this, 'cause I ain't repeating this. I know you upset , that that crazy fool ain't here to welcome you back. You probably think you did something, that maybe Murdock doesn't want to speak to you. Truth is, he don't but not for the reason you think." BA rubbed the bridge of his nose with his nose before continuing. "You know talkin' ain't my style man, that's why I ain't gonna do a lot of it. You gotta work mosta this out on yo' own. But you know what that crazy man's like. He gets an idea in his head, he sticks to it, and the shit he went through at that place weren't gonna help much in helping him have his brain all sorted out"

"Hannibal wouldn't tell me what happened to Murdock," Face interjected seriously "He said not to worry, and that it wasn't anything time and a stiff scotch couldn't fix" He focused his gaze at the taller man "Tell me BA" It wasn't a request.

BA sniffed, internally growling. Damn Hannibal for leaving it all to him. He sighed. Hannibal may have sworn to secrecy to keep the pilot happy, but BA was bound to no such agreement. Hannibal had been able to tell him, as long as it wasn't Face, and therefore Bosco could do the honours instead. Needed to be out in the open after all.

"Old man was right to some extent, man, but that ain't gonna be all." He locked eye contact with the conman "Murdock got beat up pretty bad. Those bastards didn't know what they were doing, but they made up for that with enthusiasm. Barely recognised that fool after they'd had a go. They were trying ta' get information bout me and Hannibal, but that crazy man's as tough as he is stubborn." He paused, wondering whether he should speak the rest of what was required to be said. " They tried to go for you. You woulda' been the easier target, what wit' you already bein' so ill, but Murdock, he ain't stupid and he wanted like hell to keep you safe. So he made them go for him, every time so they didn't lay a hand on you. Don' know what he did to manage it, but I know first hand how much he can rile people up, so they lash out at him, rather than you in this case."

"Me?" There was a spark of anger in Face's eyes, anger that seemed misplaced in the sudden paleness of his skin, like the colour had drained out of a watercolour. "He allowed himself to be used as a goddamn punch bag just so I'd be safe?"

"Don't hold it 'gainst him," BA said firmly, as though daring Face to try "You know if you was in his place, you would'a done 'xactly the same. You shoulda seen him when we found you too. I thought he was long gone to cuckoo-land, he was so quiet- none of his songs you know, like he usually has. But I swear, that fool freaked when we tried to lay a hand on you. Woulda taken us both down if he'd had the strength , if Hannibal hadn't bin able to calm him down. So don't you go thinkin' Murdock let you down in some way by tryin' ta act the hero. "

"I'd never hold anything against him BA" A rueful expression crossed the conman's face, but there was honesty in every syllable he spoke. "I could never hold anything against him"

BA nodded. He's suspected as much. "That may be, but that ain't the only thing. Murdock's been avoiding you 'cause he's got it in that crazy brain of his that it's his fault you nearly died. You got hurt on his watch, and he thinks he failed ya somehow"

"I wasn't that ill..."

"You nearly _died, _Face. An' he couldn't do nothin' about it"

"But that's ridiculous!" Face seemed more confused than outraged "He couldn't have done anything. I got stabbed, that was what happened, but it wasn't his hand that did it!"

"Tell the fool that" Bosco's expression shifted for a second, a softer and gentler look soothing the hard lines of his exterior. "'Thing is Face, it's only ever gonna be you he listens to. You an' him are both so close, closer than ya' are to me or Hannibal. I know..." He held up a meaty hand to silence the protests Face was about to voice "I know you still care 'bout us. I didn't mean it like that. We' a family, you know, an' we all stick together, but you an' Murdock... you an' him are somethin' else. Now, I don't pretend to understand what's going on with you two but..."

"Going on?" Face frowned "What do you mean?"

BA groaned, considering whether it would be easier locking the two in a closet to force them to sort this out. Everybody, it seemed, recognised it but the two that were involved. "You as blind as he is Face." He sighed loudly "Well, if you don't know, I ain't gonna tell ya, but I will say one thing." That expression crossed his face again, the one he rarely let anyone see, because it wasn't good for his image if he went around acting all girly and 'in touch with his emotions'. "Talk to him. Jus' be there for him, an' I don't care in what capacity you do that in"

And then BA walked away, leaving a confused Face in his wake wondering what the hell the black man had meant by that.

He smiled wryly to himself. His work here was done.

Now it was just up to Face and Murdock.

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_A/N: Hope you guys are liking this little (monstrous) one-shot. Any comments at all please don't hesitate to review. The little button's just conveniently down there... :-)_


	4. Cards On The Table

_And so we come to the end... :-) Enjoy._

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**Part 4/4  
****Cards on The Table**

Face knew where to find Murdock instinctively.

It wasn't based on logic or rational, but on instinct, on a closeness built up over the nine years he'd known the pilot. On the outside, maybe the pilot hadn't always been the same person; from a pretend doctor trying to escape from a Mexican hospital to the various roles he portrayed with a singular contentment, but Murdock on the inside, _James, _was always the same. He didn't like being caged, being trapped by four walls when it had no door. It wasn't a claustrophobia, Murdock surviving quite happily in the cramped spaces of a helicopter cockpit, but when he felt imprisoned, held against his will, the panic swelled in his chest like a bubble of fear threatening to burst. And before when the pressure built up and became too much, he needed to get out, even for a few seconds. So when Face always went to check on him shortly afterwards, the pilot was usually to be found outside, breathing in fresh air and watching the sky like he wanted to go up and ride the thermals with the migrating birds that passed. His voice would be calm then, pointing out certain birds to Face as the two stood as spectators, and often Face wondered how the hell Murdock had managed to not go insane- _really _insane- in the six months imprisonment in Germany. Because for a free creature like HM Murdock , being held in a room with locked safety windows, rarely allowed outside to see the sky and feel the breeze just in case he made a break for it, it must have been unbearable. Murdock had told him once, standing outside watching those birds, that the fear was like something was choking him, cutting off his air so that he couldn't breathe. And the idea of Murdock slowly asphyxiating for six months was enough to make Face close his eyes and wish he'd been there to make it all better.

Murdock wasn't locked inside now, wasn't held back by well-meaning but misdiagnosing hands. So when Face came around the back of the warehouse and sighted Murdock, he acknowledged he shouldn't really have been surprised. The pilot was sat on a patch of ground , where he had a pretty good view of the flat horizon, the skyline a blue thread against the dull orange dust of the ground. Yet there was no smile on his face, no song murmured on his lips. A frown was settled upon his brow, coupled with a wistful look as he fiddled with the dog tags around his neck.

But Face was here now. He could make it all better.

Murdock must have heard his footfalls, let go of the dog tags and looked around quickly to see who it was. He was obviously expecting BA or Hannibal, yet when he saw it was Face who had come to find him, a look of panic sprinted the length of his face, his colour paling as it jumped ship along with any courage he may have had about this moment. Not the reaction Face had been hoping for, admittedly, but the reaction he had expected since hearing what BA had said about the pilot's state (_and since when had Bosco 'Bad Attitude' Baracus'_ _been the emotional guru of their group?)._

The pilot jumped to his feet, dirt from the ground speckled across the legs of his cargo-pants, stared at Face as he twisted his fingers nervously in front of him, a kid standing to attention in front of an angered adult. It was like someone had forgotten to give him instructions on what to do, and he was trying hard to remember.

"Hey, Facey, you're out!" His tone tried to be excitable, but it was fake and they both knew it, paper words cast out on the wind to serve a purpose of distraction . His eyes were too wide, his smile too forced. "I'm really glad you're back, I mean, you know what hospital's are like, what with the bad food and the scratchy covers and the scary nurses...but it's ok, now you're back, and everything's normal and fine and dandy and..."

"Murdock" Face murmured quietly, halting his friends ramble. The pilot deflated immediately, slumped as he realised his panic-jumbled words weren't going to distract Face from the real problem. Face didn't want to stress out Murdock any more than he already was, but knew something had to be said. Murdock thought he was in the wrong, thought he'd made the mistakes, looking like a kicked animal in more ways than one. Face could _see _what those bastards had done, and he didn't know how to react; knew that using the cold anger to attempt to thump a hole in the wall was only going to exacerbate things. It had obviously been a couple of weeks since the two of them had been rescued from that cell, and most of the bruises had faded from purple to a sickly yellow. There was a red half-ring encircling the underside of Murdock's eye, a healing cut over the other and it was a sickening thought that no matter how bad it looked now to Face, seeing Murdock patched with yellowing evidence of a job gone wrong, half healed cuts portrayed in a closed line of red, it was nothing compared to what it must have looked like two weeks ago. How broken Murdock must have looked. Face could see the damage in his minds eye, his imagination filling in the details he doesn't want to think about, had to shut his thoughts out and push them away to stem the rising feeling of guilt "_He went through that to keep you safe" _Because Murdock was loyal, so damned loyal and Face never hated that fact till now, never wished that maybe Murdock didn't care for him so much, just so he wouldn't have to see the fall-out. There would have been a fallout, by all standards most likely quiet, but none-the-less nuclear in it's intensity. Face could see by just looking that Murdock wasn't sleeping, and he knew the nightmares would have made their dawn-time presence by now.

Murdock looked down at his feet, seeming to find the scuffed ends of his high-tops the most interesting thing in the world, before he gazed back up at Face through thick lashes, as though he expected a tirade of fury to emanate from the conman at any time. He was tensed against the anger and shouts he believed so strongly were coming his way.

A little bit of Face broke again, and if this wasn't sorted, pretty soon the pieces of them both would be too small to pick up.

"Murdock..." Face didn't know what he was going to say as he took a few more steps in his friends direction. He hadn't planned for this, any of this, couldn't explain what he sensed in his heart right at that moment as he looked at Murdock. A flickering light of emotion, nearly buried underneath the weight of the anger and hurt and worry he was carrying about with him. He didn't know what the hell he was doing, what the plan was- because he wasn't the man with the plans, Hannibal was- and he wasn't really thinking at all about this. He was thinking about Murdock, only Murdock, how pale he looked and only knowing that he wanted, _needed, _to fix this. By any means necessary.

The pilot interrupted Face's pause in speaking, a jolt of panic in his eyes as he watched Face getting closer. He looked so damn scared, so damn remorseful and in his mind, his twin fears were mixing, combining; Face's anger and the violence that even now had its marks peppered across his skin. He saw Face coming towards him, but maybe he only half saw Face , the other half seeing the brittle eyes of their captors again in that room with no windows.

"I'm sorry, Facey, I didn't mean it, I'd never mean for you to get hurt, I..."

Face came right up to the quaking pilot, so close that they were almost touching. He could see the flush of porcelain paleness to Murdock's skin, could hear him breathing like he was trying to reign in his natural instinct to bolt.

But instead of the hit that Murdock seemed to be expecting like it was a perfectly rational response , Face reached up, brushed the fading bruise under the pilot's eye with a gentleness caress of his thumb. The pilot flinched, wanted to move back, felt the rising fear like he was back in that place, like this was just a joke before punches started. Face shushed his fright with a whisper.

"I wont hurt you Murdock." He brushed his thumb again, his eyes fixing seriously on Murdock's "I will _never_ hurt you" He knew exactly what he was doing now, had realised it as he'd watched that film with Murdock, had listened to the pilot sing at four in the morning, had defended him from Sosa's barbed comments. His choice , his decision was made up from all those moments and all the moments before even that; from putting his life in a crazy man's hands in a battered Med-Evac helicopter on the Mexican border, from the times he just sat in a plastic chair at the HQ in Iraq and talked and laughed with Murdock as the pilot napalmed his steak to oblivion, from the inset realisation that despite the fact that they'd been imprisoned and chased by their own side, Face would rather that then never having met his family, having never met Murdock. Maybe getting his arm lit alight by a mental patient wasn't the best by way of an introduction, but years had gone by, and all those instants and all those little moments he'd shared with the pilot in that time had all added up . Till there was only one action he could take.

And he was going to seize it with both hands.

Murdock had stopped finding his shoes fascinating, wanted to move away from the pressure on his cheek ,before it came to him that Face wasn't mad like he should be, that Face was touching his face in a way that was definitely veering the wrong side of platonic. Face was _close, _and even though they'd been closer before; the pilot snuggled next to him on a motel sofa, sharing a bunk when bed-space was in short supply, it seemed like they'd never been so intimate. And despite all the effort Murdock had put in to getting this far, he didn't know what to do now it was here. He looked at Face and the impulsive side of his personality wanted to reach out and touch the conman, to check he was really there before he could truly quieten the darkness in his mind. But he held back, not wanting to ruin this, the black still staining his thoughts and highlighting his fears.

"I screwed up, Facey" he admitted quietly , the guilt forcing itself up again in his heart. Face shook his head softly , moving his hand away from Murdock's face, leaving the pilot feeling curiously bereft . And then Face smiled, gazing at the pilot like he was suddenly looking at the most beautiful thing he ever saw; an expression that was endearing without being patronizing, concerned without being angry. It was a look no-one had ever given Murdock before. No-one had ever looked at him like he was the most precious thing in the world, no-one had ever looked at him like they knew every inch of his soul , like they saw him, _really saw_ him, all the pieces of madness and badness and loved him just the same. And all those times Murdock had wanted a look like that , all the times he had hoped for this, he could never imagine it could feel like this.

"No you didn't" A touch against Murdock's fingers made him startle, and casting his eyes down with a jolt of shock, he saw Face's hand held up against his, fingers ghosting against his own . Requesting something the pilot had wanted to give for so long.

"Don't, Facey..." Murdock whispered, flashing the conman a look of momentary fear, because he couldn't handle it if it wasn't real, doesn't want pity if hollow love was being offered with it. Face was straight, _straight_, and Murdock could deal with that, couldn't deal with Face offering something he didn't mean. Just because Face forgave him, didn't mean it was fair for him to offer this as some sort of reward . Not something like this.

"You remember that film we watched together Murdock?" Face pressed quietly, needing Murdock to know that this was real ,knowing the pilot recalled it, knew it from the quirking facial expression's Face had learned to read from Murdock like an exotic language he'd become fluent in. "WALL.E, yeah? Where WALL.E falls in love with EVE but she doesn't notice and even though there's barely any chance she'd look at him twice, he still tries. And when she shuts down and he doesn't know what to do, he still spends every minute protecting her, even if she might never know what he's done for her. And when she turns back on, she still doesn't realise what WALL.E did for her. What WALL.E means to her"

Murdock was quiet, as though he recognised that they really weren't talking about the film any more. His expression was still reserved however, doubting. Like he didn't quite believe in this; like things like love didn't happen to him, only happened to people in fairy tales or children's films. They both knew real life well enough to know there was little gentle about it, that things like suffering and war and hurt happened more often in reality than the love at first sight, swept off your feet by Prince Charming that happened in story books. Face had been let down before, had watched as Sosa had dumped him and walked away, had resigned afterwards to never to let anyone else in so it didn't have to hurt any more. But Murdock had wormed his way into that damaged place in Face's heart, had quietly and unintentionally healed it with smiles and films and sock-puppet shows. Now Face had to return the favour, had to fix Murdock's doubt and insecurity with honesty and openness, telling the pilot what they both needed to hear spoken aloud. Because maybe fairy tales had gotten some things right after all.

Face's voice was low, questioning "Do you remember what happens in the end, when EVE thinks she's lost WALL.E forever, without being able to tell him what he means to her?"

Murdock focused his gaze on Face, green eyes fixing blue, expression hopeful like he didn't know how he could buy into this. Whether he was just hallucinating because nobody would want him, a messed-up damaged pilot, just like nobody would have wanted a lonely damaged robot. Face wondered how long it had been since someone had told Murdock how handsome he really was, how much they loved him. The thought stoked the small light in his chest, made it brighter, stronger.

"She holds his hand" Murdock finally whispered, and Face took his cue, threading his fingers through Murdock's, waiting patiently to see how the pilot reacted. It was ridiculous to think that Murdock should love him, stupid to think he could ever be that lucky, but he knew what BA had said, knew what his heart said. And he knew what Murdock had been saying all this time, what he just hadn't noticed. All those little quirky moments that had just seemed like normal Murdock-moments at the time, but which he knew now had housed a deep plan, a stronger purpose.

And for a moment, nothing happened, until- with a small grin - the pilot closed his hand around Face's, their fingers interlocked like the pieces of a jigsaw finally fitting together.

Face smiled back, leaning forward to rest his forehead against the pilot's, the two of them just revelling in the moment in the quiet of the air, their hands connected tightly. No words, no explanations, for none were necessary now. Maybe starting with the small things was where he had been going wrong all this time, why none of his other relationships had ever lasted. It'd always been about the big things, the physical pleasure, the superficial thrill of it all. With Murdock, there was no rush, no leaping in to take the next step. The whole thing just...was, something that had existed all this time, that had been innate inside him, undiscovered till now. Face was contented to just stand here breathing in the pilot, the smell of spices and oil and something else that was completely unique that Face wanted to spend the next twenty years trying to figure out. And with any luck, maybe he would.

He didn't know how they were going to make this work, how they were going to sort this out with Hannibal and BA. But that wasn't important right now, as Face leaned in to kiss Murdock gently. Taking his time, not rushing anything. Feeling Murdock's lips soft against his own, the jolt through his system a high Face could definitely become addicted to. And moving away again, Face saw Murdock grinning at him with love in his eyes, and felt complete; two halves of the same whole coming together.

They had the rest of their lives to figure out the other stuff.

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_Hope you all enjoyed this story. Please feel free to drop a comment via the review button if you feel the inclination :-) _


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